Grandparent Funeral

I did not see the body, by the way. I did feel her.

I'm supposed to be building a platform, forced to compete or cooperate.

I'm supposed to be writing a point of view or service.

I'm supposed to make a single number go up. The for the commercial to swoop with that dream contract for a studio licence of a golden opportunity, (That I don't think I'll be able to see, along with 95% of revenue.)

Yeah, that suppose is the advertising portrayed by advertising platforms, indirectly promising virality.

That's the content producer path. The Barbie couch path.

I know it doesn't matter since I'm going to the self-publish route. When it comes to the commercial publisher, it does matter. So into the slush pile it goes. That's all the copywriting/taxonomy that I'm supposed to separate now. It's time to wear black and forgot my entire professional/career aspiration of my hobby. 

Or perma-hobby, not like a want a lucky break with this. To reflect on non-optimised monetary prospects has all been a distraction. Oh, It is all but a dream. Thanks, I'll blame social media for making me think that. 🛋👉📴 This is a confession that will never happen. It's all a commercial mirage that haunt subconscious depths within the user interface design that ain't there.

I don't know whether to slather it in placebo or nocebo, It's frankly embarrassing why I believe it. It's a delusion.

I mean, what else have I got when I'm reminded of mortality? That's what I do, think of wish-fulfilment, fantasize to get it away, the memetic cocoons beckon.

What am I supposed to write? I suppose I'm the quiet one as others make conversation. Alway to be in the corner of the family takes dominance as the chitter chatter of the introduction, sermon, and the end go.

Then, reminder where I'm going to remember the bungalow, the fluffy carpet and the heart of the tradition brought from a visitor of Africa. Now reaching completion of her life. I did not flinch, really, I'm not sure if that's okay for a militant at the post-guy like me, I've still yet to process.

She was always good-natured.

“I'll stream to keep myself on track of my comicing I guess.” I said, confronting the secular atheist that I've got. Life and death circulating on a day.

Christianity obviously has seeped into my artwork, with the service and hymns. Then a cute meringue cake and black coffee followed after. Will have to take all of this, apply that to my creativity.

Yes, let those thoughts was over with the charity that are to be remembered. With a soft, gentle day of closure with not much dramatizing going on, maybe that's how I'd like it.

A day of closure with a late stream. Those days have ended. Let it all live on with doing a deadlift tomorrow.